Dixie Chicks singer ready to play nice with 'Mother'

Thursday

Jun 20, 2013 at 6:00 AMJun 20, 2013 at 11:45 AM

Craig S. Semon Tracks

Proving that there is life after committing career suicide, Dixie Chicks’ resident rabble-rouser Natalie Maines opens up about relationships, romance and regrets (but, thankfully, not politics) on her stellar but stark solo debut, “Mother.”

We already knew that she was a little bit country, as well as a little bit ditzy, but on “Mother,” Maines proves she’s a lot bit rock ’n’ roll. While she’s more Sheryl Crow than Lita Ford, mind you, the Dixie Chick-turned-rock chick’s rock ’n’ roll roots are showing throughout the album’s 10 tracks.

Talk about career suicide. Not since Sinead O’Connor’s Pope-shredding performance on Saturday Night Live has an artist sealed their fate with a single stage gesture as Maines did when she told a London audience on the eve of the U.S. invasion of Iraq that the Chicks were “ashamed that the president of the United States (at the time, George Dubya) is from Texas.” Her off-the-cuff, anti-Bush banter in 2003 resulted in being blacklisted on country radio, as well as garnering a fierce backlash from country music fans. Personally, I don’t know what’s scarier, not being able to speak your mind (no matter how unpopular one’s views might be) or the fact that anyone would take someone seriously who calls themselves a Dixie Chick.

One of Maines’ greatest gifts is her ability to take on other people’s songs and make them her own. She has the uncanny knack to be able to tap into the rich, emotional undercurrent of a song (in some cases, some of which were never fully realized by the original artist) and expand on them by allowing herself to be intimate and unguarded, vulnerable and real. On her first full-fledged musical effort since the Dixie Chicks swept five Grammy Awards for “Taking the Long Way” six years ago, Maines teams up with Grammy-winning singer, songwriter and guitar wizard Ben Harper, who co-produced the record with her. Recorded with Harper’s band mates, the result is an introspective collection of stripped-down rockers that are intimate and telling, despite most of the songs being covers.

Maines sings about hitting rock bottom and then going through a spiritual rebirth in the process on the Eddie Vedder cover “Without You.” Featured on the Pearl Jam front-man’s “Ukulele Songs,” a lo-fi drone of rudimentary reverberating guitars give way to Maines’ caressing, encompassing vocals, which are a perfect match for Vedder’s overly earnest, lovelorn lyrics. Singing about how she wouldn’t trade her emotional scars or her basket-case soul mate for anything in the world, Maines has a complete understanding of the sentiment, as she embraces the telling words for all they’re worth.

In a period in our history when “Big Brother” is watching your every move, listening to your phone calls, reading your emails and, quite possibly, ruffling through your underwear drawer, Pink Floyd’s classic “Mother” resonates with more meaning and more paranoia than ever before. Maines, who knows a thing or two about being put in front of a proverbial firing line, plays both the roles of an inquisitive, naive waif and over-protective, hygiene-obsessed, neurosis-inducing matriarch on this compelling and rich character study, made even more so by her intense and beautiful phrasing. After the resonating irony of Maines singing, “Mother, should I trust the government?” the traditional acoustic guitar strums of the original kicks in. Wrestling with relationship and trust issues, Maines, who doesn’t tweak the male-centric lyrics about her girlfriend woes or getting her private parts broken, expands on the original and gives it a fierce, feminine voice.

With her intimate, conversational style meshing with a light and breezy arrangement of subtle slide guitar and jangly keyboards, Maines takes us on a soul-searching journey to wipe away the years and the tears on Dan Wilson’s “Free Life”… When she warmly serenades us with “Let’s fall in love again with music as our guide/We’ll raise our ready hands and let’s go for the ride,” it’s virtually impossible to resist her invitation to join her.

“Silver Bell,” which is a reference to a fictitious fleabag motel (not a festive, seasonal classic), finds a down and out Maines scheduling a secret rendezvous with a former confidant and lover. Ready to confess all her sins (and, maybe, commit a few new ones), a spunky and sassy Maines gushes, “I did a stupid thing” (and, no, she’s not talking about the Dubya debacle). Accompanied by a chug-a-lug acoustic guitar, roaring electric guitar, an indelible bass line and stomping backbeat, this Patty Griffin cover is one of the album’s best straight-ahead rockers and could be a country hit. That is, if country music fans find it in their collective hearts to forgive Maines’ indiscretions of the mouth.

Maines is a restless spirit who’s “too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run” on Jeff Buckley’s “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over.” Maines, who sounds like an honorary Cowboy Junkie here, is intense and passionate as she gradually reveals her unbridled passions and undying commitment for the emotionally rich material. When she soulfully cries out for companionship, it’s enough to make you run out of your house to find her, even though you don’t know where to even start looking for her.

On the Harper original “Trained,” Maines complains that her lover got her trained like a “circus freak” (“to go behind my ears with my feet”). If my calculations are right, that’s no “circus freak.” That’s a “super freak,” but that’s beside the point. If you get beyond the song being a dumb blonde joke waiting to happen, “Trained” is a soulful and funky delight with a sassy, call-and-response between Maines and Harper, who, vocal-wise and guitar-wise, does a dead-on Lenny Kravitz impersonation here.

Speaking about impersonation, Maines does her best Sheryl Crow impression on the “Come Cryin’ to Me,” a Dixie Chicks outtake written by Maines and her fellow Dixie Chicks Martie Maguire and Emily Robison. Considered to be “too rock” for the multi-Grammy-winning “Taking the Long Way,” this radio-friendly, touchy-feely, neo-hippie opus is a pleasant enough trifle at best.

On the album closer, “Take It On Faith,” Maines (who co-wrote the track with Harper) tries to convince her dubious lover that she will stand by him through thick and thin. If only the same could be said about her fair-weather fans. On this intimate and telling confessional, Maines’ tender and vulnerable voice permeates through a moody blend of baroque piano, subtle acoustic guitar and somber strings. You can feel the heartache and heartbreak in her voice, as well as the reassuring devotion and strong belief that things are going to get better. And, at the point of the song where things could go either way, a promising, rocking crescendo shows they certainly have.